In Which We Fret Over the Convention

Not because of the speeches, so much, since we've somehow managed to miss everything major except for the recaps--give us a break; it's coming on September and the magic number is 26--but because our girl hero is looking a bit winded and in need of some buttered noodles and a nap.

We want a well-rested, happy Rachel, and, despite our constant swooning at her feet, worry a bit about the toll the skyrocketing career and back-to-back convention coverage might be taking on her home life. When does she get to see her girlfriend? Seriously.

As noted many, many times before in this space, we are certifiably insane.

Speaking of which, the live panel in front of screaming fans is a dead ringer for ESPN's College Gameday coverage, with the inevitable result that Pat Buchanan has become Lee Corso, gleefully flapping and shouting stuff designed to prod the crowd into a hailstorm of booing and make his co-panelists stare at him as if he were the insane guy at the bus stop.

Clinton's speech--at least, uh, according to the *cough* transcript (the Cubs came back to score seven in the top of the eighth! I was busy!)--was good and, hopefully, should be enough of a kick in the shorts to the idiotic PUMAs to get their heads out of their asses. I look forward to Biden's speech--which I will watch live, honest--in the hopes that he'll come out blazing.